


Primal Lust

by Magicalfish



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Drabble, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 06:11:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19864810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicalfish/pseuds/Magicalfish
Summary: The Exarch claims he has a spell to keep things in check when the WOL has to fight a primal who's ability is to inflame people with lust. Y'shtola isn't sure she believes him.





	Primal Lust

It was a problem, Y’shtola had to admit. She just hoped the Exarch’s spell, whatever it was, would work.

She hadn’t thought anyone on the First be foolish enough to summon a primal, but there were still some from Eulmore, thankfully a minority, who missed the old decadent ways. And the way the dealt with that was apparently to worship some being she had never heard of, named Aphroditus.

Aphroditus, the god of desire. Any who heard their voice would be doubly stricken—tempered, if they didn’t have the echo. And consumed with lust on top of that.

The Warrior of Light, or Warrior of Darkness here in the first, didn’t have to worry about being tempered. The second bit, Y’shtola wasn’t so sure about.

Oh, he certainly didn’t seem concerned. But the Warrior of Light never did. Killing gods was nothing to the hero of the First and the Source. When he headed off to Eulmore, alone, to face Aphroditus, the image of him in her aether-site was unwavering. In her mind’s eyes she could imagine it, his stoic face and steady stride.

Only she and Urianger had come along to make sure it was done. Alphinaud and Alisaie were a bit too young for Y’shtola’s liking to risk them seeing the effects of Aphroditus on the nearby populace, and she wouldn’t let someone like Thancred anywhere near that primal. The only risk now was the Warrior of Light himself.

But apparently the Exarch had a plan. A magical spell to purge the effects that he had for some reason only shared with Urianger, much to Y’shtola’s annoyance.

“It will be fine,” he assured her. “The Exarch will be waiting for him.”

Y’shtola could tell when the primal was defeated—an explosion of aether-light in the distance only she could see, the source of the energy gone. And there, a familiar shape returning over the beach of Eulmore.

She sighed. His stride wasn’t as steady as she remembered. And his aether flickered with reds and pinks.

She could imagine him now in her mind’s eye, red-faced and panting, eyes half-lidded. Though she was sure the armor he wore covered the most obvious symptom.

She reached for her wand, ready to try and knock him out with a sleep spell before he could do anything to harm them or embarrass himself, but Urianger’s voice stopped her. “We will take him to the Exarch,” he said.

She huffed. “If he loses control—”

“He knows the plan as well,” Urianger said. “Trust us.”

She did, and it wasn’t entirely mis-placed. She could hear the Warrior’s heavy breathing, and noted how the pinks and reds in his aether flickered when he looked at her—or maybe Urianger, she wasn’t sure. She could envision him as they escorted him to the Crystarium, his mouth half open as he panted, cheeks and neck flushed. But if he was suffering unduly from it, he gave no other sign.

They were let in to the Crystarium without issue, guards and attendants curiously absent, and then the Exarch was there. “Oh,” the robed man said. “I’ve been expecting you.”

It was then when the Warrior’s aether spiked, the red overtaking him. She heard him gasp. The Exarch crossed the room, his own aether responding in kind.

Y’shtola couldn’t make sense of it for a moment in her aether-sight, the men too close together. She could imagine it well enough—the Exarch’s breathing matched the Warrior’s, his mouth open, his hands on the Warrior’s shoulders. A hushed whisper.

The door to the Exarch's inner chambers closed. There was no surge of aether that marked any magic from inside.

Then the plan suddenly made sense.

“The Exarch is just fucking him, isn’t he?” Y’shtola remarked.

She could imagine the small smile on Urianger’s lips. “Is that not magic?”


End file.
